Waterfall

kitty the naughty poet

diamonds shine in the dim light of dawn

falling with the sparkling blue waterfall

a whirlwind adventure glinting through the leaves

lost in the forest of wild fantasies

droplets of silver sifting through the breeze

a tiny beacon of hope flickers in the distance

like a single candle in the window of an old dark house

or an elephant dancing in the moonlight

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Comments +

Comments3

  • Caring dove

    Beautiful poem Katie .. lovely writing .. especially love the last line .. elephant dancing in the moonlight‘

  • orchidee

    Good write Katie.

  • L. B. Mek

    ok so i know y'all think I'm pitifully crazy
    cos I choose to be somewhat, overtly effusive
    in my appreciation of the poetry y'all share..
    but here, lets compare
    your succinct and vivid, poem
    with one of the greatest
    to ever lift a pen
    (admittedly, I may be a fool
    but equally, all y'all Poetry is truly awesome):
    ' — but the waterfall itself, which
    I came suddenly upon, gave me a pleasant
    twinge. First
    we stood a little below the head
    about halfway down the first fall, buried
    deep in trees, and saw it streaming
    down two more descents to the depth
    of near fifty feet. Then we went
    on a jut of rock nearly level
    with the second fall-head, where
    the first fall was above us
    and the third below our feet still.
    At the same time we saw that the water was divided
    by a sort of cataract island on whose other side
    burst out a glorious stream — then the thunder
    and the freshness. At the same time
    the different falls have as different characters;
    the first
    darting down the slate rock like an arrow;
    the second
    spreading out like a fan;
    the third
    dashed into a mist — and the one on the other side
    of the rock a sort of mixture of all these. We afterwards
    moved away a space, and saw nearly the whole more mild, streaming
    silverly through the trees. What astonishes me
    more than anything
    is the tone, the coloring, the slate, the stone, the moss, the rockweed;
    or,
    if I may so say, the intellect,
    the countenance of such places.'
    from Keats letters



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